


Honeymoon

by Trin303



Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Category: John Wick (Movies)
Genre: Balcony Sex, F/M, Kinktober, Kinktober 2020, john wick kinktober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-08
Updated: 2020-10-08
Packaged: 2021-03-08 00:41:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26896879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Trin303/pseuds/Trin303
Summary: Kinktober 2020Prompt: Balcony or Window SexHelen looks out over the city. John looks at Helen.
Relationships: Helen Wick/John Wick
Series: Kinktober 2020 [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1962415
Comments: 1
Kudos: 7





	Honeymoon

"You can see half the city from here." Helen calls.

John drops their duffle bag on the bed. It's a beautiful hotel, overlooking half of Paris. The first non-Continental hotel he's stayed at in decades. But that's gone now, left behind in the past where it belongs.

He looks out towards the balcony and his future.

Helen wears a white lace sundress- her wedding dress. Her hair falls softly around her shoulders despite the many, many things he had done to her on the private jet over the Atlantic. Helen had insisted it was too much but after their quick, courthouse marriage, he wanted privacy.

John can’t help but smile.

He's retired. He's married.

He looks down at his own hand, at the wedding ring he'd been toying with since they left the courthouse to board the plane.

It was real.

The paper is his pocket, the rings on both their fingers.

He looks out at his wife, _his wife,_ standing on the balcony and staring out at the city strung with lights.

Fuck.

John crosses the room and steps out into the cool night air. He wraps his arms around her. Helen smiles and leans back into his chest, resting her head on his shoulder.

“It’s beautiful.” She says with a small sigh.

He almost laughs. Paris is nothing compared to her. He kisses her head.

"You're beautiful." He tells her and he appreciates that she doesn't argue. She knows the life John has had. She knows that cities and landscapes and art are little to him. She is everything.

Helen turns her head and leans back to kiss him.

His wife is kissing him.

It feels too good to be true.

But then, it always has with Helen. From the first moment that he saw her, it was too good to be true. Yet here they were. Together. In Paris. Matching bands on their fingers, reminding him of the vows they had made.

She breaks the kiss and smiles up at him, “You’re thinking too hard, Mister Wick.”

“I’m thinking about my wife, Misses Wick.”

Helen smiles, looking back out at the city. The night air has a chill but he doesn’t mind. It gives him an excuse to wrap his arms around her.

They’re in the penthouse suite, looking down on the city. Even at night, the streets are busy. People walk around beneath them. People who were just living their lives and completely unaware that above them, John Wick had his arms wrapped around his wife. None of them knew that Baba Yaga had retired.

It was surreal and perfect and magical. 

Helen Wick.

That thought alone made his heart soar.

He kisses her shoulder. Her neck. John kisses up her jaw until Helen turns back to face him again. She kisses him with a smile and steps forward, just out of his reach. Her hand itches up her back and finds the zipper. 

John watches the zipper sink down and, sure enough, Helen allows her dress to slide off her body leaving her in a set of nude lingerie. She disposes of that, too, and John swallows as her bra drops and her panties slip down her legs.

He wraps his arms around his gorgeous wife, running his hands down her smooth skin.

John cups her breasts and Helen sighs softly. 

“I love you.” He whispers, squeezing at the tender flesh, his thumbs brushing over her nipples as Helen sighs in his arms. She reaches out and braces herself against the balcony edge, staring out over the city.

Lights twinkle all around them. Buildings are lit up, string lights decorate the street below them and it bathes them in a golden glow.

She looks magnificent, her skin warmed by the light.

John undoes his pants and pulls out his hardening cock. He rubs the head against her slit and Helen grinds back against him.

Taking her in Paris as they are bathed in the lights. They rest above the city as he bends her over and slides himself inside her.

Helen moans loudly and John wonders if people on the street can hear her. If they can’t yet, they soon will. John buries himself to the hilt and revels in the little huffs of breath that escape his wife. He’ll turn them to screams soon enough.

John carefully pushes Helen forward, angling her torso down so that her breasts are pushed into the balcony. He traces a hand down her smooth back and then back up, gently squeezing the back of her neck.

“Tell me what you see.” He says and Helen sighs contentedly, gazing out at the city.

“Golden lights. People walking around. Cobblestones. Marble. History. Beauty.”

He grinds against her before moving his hips back, pulling out until just the tip is inside her. “All that,” John tells her, pushing his hips back in so that he buries himself within her again, “And I still have the better view. Your soft skin, that delicate curve of your neck. I’m going to mark it all up so that no one who sees you will doubt that you’re claimed. Your pretty little lips, begging to be kissed. And your sweet, sweet ass.” He slams into her again.

Helen moans and John bends down over her small body. He nips at her neck, a promise of what is to come. “What do you smell?”

John slows his pace again and Helen exhales a small sound of need. 

“Hmm?”

A swear falls from her sweet mouth and her chest stutters as she breathes in deep, “Smoke. Bread or… pastries?”

John hums and nips her ear, “You know what I smell? Your perfume. The wine on your breath. And your pussy, soaked for me.”

He makes a point to slowly thrust in and out, his hands digging into her hips as he does. 

“Now what do you hear?”

“John, please!”

“What…” He growls, “do you hear?”

Helen is shaking in his arms, desperately trying to grind back against him. 

“I…. There’s cars. Motorbikes. And music and chatter.”

“I hear that hitch in your breath when I make you have to work that cotton candy brain of yours.”

“What?” She breathes, blinking over her shoulder at him.

“Perfect and sweet, until it gets wet. And then you dissolve.” His fingers dip down and rub her clit and, of course, her breath hitches and she whimpers so prettily. “And that whimper… I do love making you nonsensical. I hear every little change in your breathing, every moan that escapes you. And the sound of our hips,” he thrusts into her, “slamming together. That might be my favorite.”

“Fuck, John.”

“Those little sweet nothings that slip from your lips. Your swears to God, the desperate begging… Mm, I could listen to you all night. Maybe later, I will.”

His fingers circle her clit and Helen is fucking shaking in his arms.

“What can you feel, baby?”

Christ, she is almost crying in desperation but she knows begging will only make him more determined. The only way to relief is to answer his questions.

“Fuck… railing of the balcony. The cold night air. Fuck… I feel you, John.”

“Damn right you do.” John rolls his hips, “Wanna know what I feel baby?” He starts thrusting into her again and again, “I feel your wet cunt squeezing my cock. I feel you shaking in my arms, so desperate for me. I feel your soft little clit.” His fingers stop their circling and begin to speed up as he rubs her clit frantically. “Your warm, soft body. Built for me. Made for me.”

Helen cries out, raising a leg, desperately trying to take him deeper.

“Come for me, sweetheart. Scream for the city to hear you.”

And she does, unable to take the harsh thrusts mixed with his quick, talented fingers. Helen screams and John sinks his teeth into her shoulder as she does.

He tenses, trying to control his breathing and keep from coming just yet. John slides out of her and runs his hands up her body, catching her as she staggers back.

“Oh, sweet girl. Did so well.”

She turns in his arms, sinking against him. John controls her descent as he lowers her to her knees.

And Helen looks up at him, her breaths still coming out in pants. She eyes his still hard cock and licks her lips.

“Now, you’re going to tell me what you taste.”


End file.
